


Make Me Your Canvas

by tawncat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Harry, Everyone else is just kinda there, M/M, Taylor's a bitch, mentions of Harry/Nick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:11:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawncat/pseuds/tawncat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uni AU where Harry is a sophomore Art Major and Louis is a senior Drama major who just happens to be at the right place and the right time and still manages to fuck up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me Your Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first one I've posted, and I'm finding it harder to write in 3rd pov than I thought it would be so just bare with me. Also, I don't know if UK uni uses Freshman, Sophomore, Junior, Senior but that's what I went with sorry if it's incorrect.

It had taken a while, but Harry had finally done it. He'd managed to get a few pieces into his uni art show. It was a tri-annual thing, artists were chosen to take some of their best work and showcase it down at the city plaza for a weekend. Hundreds of people saw the work there, whether they were just passing through, or stopping to see and Harry had finally made it. Now, it's not that he isn't a good artist, he's good at what he does. Really he is, but the fact of the matter is, there was always someone with better art, someone with more bribe money, or someone with more seniority. Those were the ways people got in. Unless you're Harry. Harry baked an array of sweets and goodies for the art show president, Taylor. He painted her portraits, he wrote her shitty poems and he even took her on a date. And with all of that, he managed to get 5 pieces into the show. He's not sure how he did it, but he's damn glad he did.

Now the show is in a week, and Harry only has 4 of his pieces selected.  _Nothing's good enough._ His friends were no help either.

"Paint food. Everyone loves paintings of food." Niall's only solution to anything is food. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.

"Just graffiti one of the walls. It's counts right?" Zayn still hasn't grasped the concept that graffiti is not fine art, although he's petitioned it to be several times.

"Find an inspiration! If you don't like your work, find an inspiration." Liam's was probably the most helpful, and Harry started a new piece the night he'd spoken to him. So far it was turning out well. Maybe even show worthy.

Yea right.

Harry screamed and threw a half painted canvas into the hallway.  _Nothing's good enough._ A soft knock came from outside his doorway as he cleaned up some paint he'd knocked in the midst of rage. Looking up, his eyes landed on a boy he'd never seen before, looking significantly smaller than the oversized canvas he was holding.

"I think you dropped something," he mumbled, holding out the piece. He gave Harry a hesitant half smile and shrugged a bit. He was possibly the most beautiful boy Harry'd ever laid eyes on. Ocean eyes and fluffy chestnut locks Harry'd like to knot his fingers into. A cleared throat snapped him out of his trance and the half smile was gone, replaced with a furrowed brow and look of concern.

"I didn't drop it. I threw it. It's shit and I'm done," Harry grumbled snatching the work from the smaller boy.

"If you're so mad at it, why'd you take it back?" the boy wondered, raising a brow. Harry wanted to knock the look of his face. Or kiss it. No. No, knock it off for sure.

"What does it matter to you? I don't even know you and you're intruding on my space," Harry snapped. The boy looked a bit startled, like if you shouted at a puppy.

"Just wondering. 'm Louis by the way, and I didn't try to intrude, I was just giving you your painting back." Louis defended quietly.

"Yea well, get outta here. People in the hall know not to bother me when I'm trying to be inspired." Harry said. Louis walked off defeated. 

"God, first years," Harry mumbled, tossing the piece onto Niall's bed. He turned around to find himself face to face with Louis. Or rather, face to hair as the boy was nearly a head shorter.

"I'm not a first year, I'm a senior damnit. Don't assume things because I'm short and we've never met," Louis barked before stomping off. Taken a back, Harry picked up a new canvas, suddenly wanting to paint the fire in the boy's eyes.  _This is what being inspired feels like._

 

\--

 

"Goddamnit Nick every fucking time!" Louis shouted upon walking back into his dorm. Nick was laid out across the floor, tweaking with some sort of microphone headset. Louis wasn't quite sure.

"Wear lifts." Was the simple reply he got from his friend. Useless. Nick Grimshaw was completely useless.

"Hah. Really, I was just trying to be nice to this kid and give him back his shitty painting that was laying in the hall and he had to go and be a dick about it." Louis grumbled. It wasn't that he was truly angry about though. He was angry because this kid was hot and he was an artist and that made him ever  _more_ hot and the entire time he was there he just wanted to tug on curls and make out with him. But he had to fuck it up.

"Well, that's artists for you. Very angsty. Very angry at the world."

"God, I just wanted to punch that stupid scarf right off his head," Louis growled. Nick stopped and sat up quickly, abandoning his little project.

"Scarf? Did you say scarf? Like a head scarf?"

"Yes a head scarf. What kind of idiot wears a fucking head scarf?" Louis glared. Obviously he'd said scarf and head, so he didn't really see where the confusion was.

"Remember the freshman I fucked around with last year?" Nick asked urgently. Louis had no idea why Nick'd bring up one of his fuck-buddies at a time like this.

"Yea I suppose why?"

"That's him! That's Harry Styles!" Nick shouted. Louis looked dazed. He'd heard a lot about Harry. Legs that go on for miles  _(true)._ Untameable curls  _(true)._ Hipster clothing  _(true, he'd probably painted his jeans on himself, and his shirt was held closed by 3 buttons. And don't even get him started on the head scarf)._ Brilliant green eyes  _(true)._  Tattoos galore  _(true from what Louis could see)._ And a good shag  _(probably true by the looks of it)._ And apparently he paints. 

"You didn't tell me he was an artist," Louis' voice sounded a bit far away.

"It wasn't important to me what he was majoring in, and I needed to know was that he was a good shag and available during exams." Nick shrugged. Louis stood up, he wanted to go back and talk to Harry. Not to get in his pants, _(yes)_ but just to get to know the kid he'd heard so much about.  _(and maybe get a chance of his own.)_

"Don't bother him Lou. Niall's told me he's gotten into the art show, and he's pretty pissed about not having any inspiration." Louis heard the warning, he swears he did, but what was really on his mind was Harry's voice  _"I'm trying to be inspired."_ Louis wanted to be that inspiration. He wanted to be that inspiration for Harry more than anything he'd every wanted. More than lead roles, more than rooming with Nick, more than seeing his sisters- okay maybe not more than he wanted to see his sisters, but Harry was a close second.

And that scared him more than anything.

 

\--

 

It caused more commotion than Harry thought it would. It got more attention than all of Taylor's pieces put together (which wasn't really hard, she was only minoring in art and didn't deserve to be president. She should be president of her major, music, not that she was very good at that either.) People kept whispering to each other "Did you see the eye piece by that sophomore over there?" "There's so much passion and anger." "I wonder who's eyes they are?" "Maybe they're his own" That one made Harry chuckle. If they even paid a fraction of the attention they gave his art, to him they'd know his eyes were green. And these were blue. Out of the corner of those green eyes, he saw a  _very_ heated Taylor walking towards him. Harry stepped away from his exhibit to not cause a scene.

"What the hell Harry. You're stealing everyone's attention, no one's looking at my art. I'm the president! You only got in because you took me out on a date!" she whisper yelled.

"Well, I just painted a picture. Not my fault they like it," he shrugged. Harry didn't see a reason for Taylor to be so mad. He's probably brought more people with just one piece that Taylor ever had with a whole exhibit.

"My main piece isn't getting any recognition!" she bellowed. People turned and stared.

"Taylor, it's a giant thirteen. What did you expect?" Harry mumbled. He didn't get a response, although he did get a kick in the shin and Taylor stomping off. Upon returning to his post, he saw Niall, Liam and Zayn checking out his art. They all looked rather intrigued by the portrait of eyes, and ignoring the other 4 pieces. Liam broke the silence first.

"You found an inspiration." Harry snorted.

"Some two foot tall senior got up in my face and I painted his anger. That's not inspiration Li," Harry reasoned. The 3 did not look so convinced. Harry wasn't too convinced himself.

"You sure about that mate? That looks more like passion than anger," Zayn pushed.

"Sod off, the lot of you!" Harry scoffed. Grumbling, they all wandered away, leaving the word passion echoing in Harry's mind. Louis wasn't passionate- at least, he wasn't passionate about Harry. He was sure passionate about being short. A little voice nagged the back of his mind _Y_ _ou wish he was passionate about you. Hell, you thought he was going to kiss you right then and there. And you would have loved it._  Harry has to shut that voice up.

 

\--

 

"That's me..." Louis mumbled. Coming face to face with his own eyes left him a little shell-shocked to say the least. He just wanted to see what Harry had painted, because as much as he told Nick that the paintings were shit, they weren't. They weren't Picasso, but they weren't bad. And now Louis has come face to face with his own eyes, and hell, maybe Harry  _was_ Picasso with a little inspiration. That's what it had to be. Those were Louis' eyes, no doubt about it. Louis knows what his eyes look like and those were definitely them. The angry crease in between them was the same, same darkened blue, same blown pupils. The only question now was how in gods name did Harry manage to remember what Louis' eyes looked like with picturesque quality. Especially when he was mad.

"You going to ask me anything or you gonna keep staring at your reflection?" A gravely voice asked. Harry. Louis'd been caught red handed. But maybe that's what he wanted.

"It's not a reflection if it's a painting. And I'm not making that face," he retorted. Harry wasn't phased.

"Do you like it? I know I said you interrupted me trying to find inspiration, but you actually gave it to me. This has been the most viewed piece all weekend. Makes my others look like shit," he explained. Louis couldn't think of how to respond, so his mouth took over without the permission of his brain.

"Because all your others _are_ shit." _Lie._

Harry looked hurt, "You think my art is shit."

"It kind of is, no wonder you didn't get in before."  _Lie._

Harry flinched. "I'm majoring in art." Some sort of defensive reasoning Louis thinks, but he can't stop himself.

"You should find a new major before it's too late."  _Lie._

Harry's eyes began to glisten. "Do you at least like yours?" This was Louis' last chance to make it right.

"No."  _Lie._

Harry didn't say anything back. It was all he needed to hear. The taller boy pushed past Louis, nearly knocking him into the painting, and walked off briskly. Louis had done it now. _  
_

 

\--

 

_Yours._

_Do you at least like yours?_

_Yours._

That's all Louis had heard in his mind since that day. Harry had referred to his own painting as Louis'. Just because it was of him, did not make it his. But Louis liked the sound anyways.

Not that it mattered now.

It's been two weeks since the art show, and Louis hadn't seen Harry anywhere since. Not in the halls, not in the common rooms, not in the art studio. He hopes to god Harry didn't change his major, or worse drop out because Louis thinks he's got true talent. And he wants to be his inspiration.

But Harry didn't. He didn't drop out. He didn't change his major. But he also didn't leave his dorm. He'd send Niall with money for food (which generally came back partially eaten)or more paint or more canvas. He just painted. He painted pain. He painted sorrow. He painted Louis. He painted Louis with all these things. All these emotions that'd he'd seen in his eyes that day. The bewilderment of seeing himself. The confusion. The hate. The pure hatred Harry was sure he saw in Louis' eyes was the thing he painted the most. The image burned in his brain. He tried to paint Louis happy. Laughing. Loved. All the things Harry wanted him to be. To be with him. But nothing was right. Nothing was expressive enough. So he painted him hateful. And that in itself may have pushed Harry under.

 

__

 

"Grimmy! What's the craic?" Bellowed through Louis' sleepy trance. A thick Irish accent he wasn't incredibly familiar with, but could still pick out as Niall. As Nick answered, Louis tossed a pillow in the general direction of voices. 

"Oi Louis,  I see you're awake. Long time no see," Niall greeted. Louis just groaned into his pillow.

"He's pretty upset mate. Spoke with out thinking and made a boy cry. Won't tell me who," Nick explained quietly. Louis rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket farther up. He didn't need to be reminded of his newest failure.

"I think that boy might be the depressed artist I room with. He hasn't left in two weeks and only paints angry blue eyes. I think I recall seeing some angry blue eyes at a certain art show," Niall lead on. Louis thought about it for no more than a second before getting up and asking Niall for his dorm number and key. He was going to make everything right if it killed him. And it may.

Louis bolted for the dorm, not caring that his was in his boxers and an old Manchester United jersey. It wasn't too terribly far from his own.  _Convenient of any of this works out._ Louis took two deep breaths before shoving the key in, not thinking about it too much, in fear of talking himself out. He threw the door open to reveal Harry, asleep at his easel in nothing but tight briefs. Louis is starting to regret his boxers. He can see all his tattoos clearly now. Covering his arms and torso. He didn't really want to wake Harry up, but at this point, there wasn't really another choice.

"Harry. I'm going to need you to wake up or you'll probably break this thing." Louis said, padding over. Harry looked peaceful. But he still looked hurt. And that in turn, hurt Louis. A lot.

"Harold I require your company. I have something to say," he said a bit loud. He didn't really want to touch Harry, since the boy was practically naked. So he smacked him with a pillow, accidentally knocking him off his stool. Harry hit the ground with a thud looking more than startled.

"Oh. Oh god. Please don't look at them I'm sorry." was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Louis sat down next to him. Harry pulled away.

"Don't apologize Harry, that's my job. I was wrong. And if you'll hear me out, I'd like to explain." Harry looked confused and offended.

"You want to explain why my art is shit?" he asked, almost as if Louis would hit him for saying the wrong thing.

"No, I want to explain why I said what I said, and what I meant to say. If that made sense," Louis tried explaining. Harry nodded hesitantly.

"Okay. I didn't know how to respond. I was so shocked to see my own eyes, and see how spot on they were. I didn't know what to say, and I started talking out my arse and couldn't stop myself. I don't think your art is shit. It's good Harry. Really good. And it's even better with a little inspiration. And I love the painting you did," Louis stopped to look around at all the canvases with his eyes on them, "I love all the paintings you've done. Harry these are brilliant, but why are they all so mad?"

"I couldn't paint you happy. I tried. But I couldn't do it because all I could see was you mad. I just wanted to paint you." Harry explained, getting progressively louder. Louis pulled his knees to his chest in attempt to hide his half hard-on.

"You want to paint me." Was all he could manage.

"I said that!" Harry snapped. Angry Harry was just making the situation more difficult.

"Paint me right now." Louis commanded. Harry laughed half heartedly.

"I don't have any more canvas-"

"No. Paint. Me. Right now." Louis interrupted. Harry bit his lip, suddenly catching on and nodded. He pulled down all his paints and lined them up, laying Louis down next to them. He tugged off Louis' jersey, leaving his boxers. Louis leaned up to Harry's lips, just ghosting over them before he was pinned down.

"I'm going to paint you. And it going to be cold. But you can't kiss me okay?" Harry mumbled. Louis just nodded. Harry started by painting over all of Louis' tattoos, in brilliant bright shades, far superior than their usual black. He filled things in from there. Colours and patterns all over. He painted Louis' face in a tribal pattern. Van Gogh's Starry Night was painted out on his abdomen. Different words filled his legs. Lyrics, quotes from Harry's favourite songs, movies, books, poems; written in beautiful calligraphy. When he finished, Harry set the brush back, and slipped his fingers into Louis's waistband. The older boy bucked up his hips. Harry leaned in closer, mouth hovering about Louis'.

"Might as well..." Harry whispered before kissing him. Louis knotted his fingers into Harry's curls, just as he's wanted to to for weeks, not caring about getting paint everywhere. Harry reached into Louis' boxers and grabbed his dick, stroking it lightly, which earned a moan from Louis. Harry stopped about as quickly as he started, pulling only far enough away to speak.

"Lou, you're going to get paint all over, if you keep this up."

"I won't be keeping anything up for much longer if you keep your hand there," Louis replied smirking. Harry did just that. Soon enough Louis was coming apart at the seams and Harry thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"I should paint that. You're so beautiful like that. You're always beautiful," Harry chirped. Louis just nodded. And they stayed like that for awhile. Just laying and cuddling and soon enough Harry had nearly as much paint as Louis.

"I think you need to shower," Harry laughed.

"Only if you help me get all this off." Louis teased.

"Lou, my love, I'm covered now too. We're in this together." Harry smiled, getting up and dragging the smaller boy with him.

"So I'm forgiven, yea?" Louis quirked.

"If you agree to be my inspiration." 

"As long as you need."

 

 


End file.
